• The Mirror (آینه Ayneh)

1/9/26 (Fri)

Iranian director Jafar Panahi’s 1997 film shows the influence of his mentor Kiarostami, who penned the director’s The White Balloon just two years earlier, in the breaking of the fourth wall. A simple story about a girl whose mother fails to pick her up from school, which takes up the first 40% or so of the movie, becomes something very different when the seven-year-old actress becomes miffed for some reason and, throwing off her costume, refuses to film the final scene. As she storms off, she forgets to remove her body mike, so the director, having film to spare, orders the crew to continue following and filming her as she maneuvers Tehran’s busy streets.

I’m not sure whether that itself was planned – for one thing, how did they happen to film the director, who was sitting behind the camera, as he considered what to do? – but it was seamlessly presented. They track the girl from a distance as she approaches people for help, works her way into a taxi, and weaves through waves of people on the street. Various obstacles, like static on the mike or buses blocking the view, were kept in as part of the filming process. In the end, the girl removes her mike at a shop. The director’s assistant rushes over to convince the shopkeeper to take the mike back to the girl, but the shopkeeper’s ineptness brings the film to a close as the girl, safely back home, shuts the door on us.

The theme thus shifts from the girl’s plight at having been forgotten by her mom, which is never fully explained (there’s a suggestion that the mom is busy giving birth to her second child), to the meta theme of a character on the loose from her own film. The small girl throwing off her character’s hijab seemed to point to a political theme, but she puts another one right back on again when she changes clothes. The school principal, distracted by her relative’s pleas regarding an upcoming wedding, seems extremely negligent in leaving the forgotten kid alone, but that’s not pursued either. She lets the relative take the child on his bike to a big square supposedly near the kid’s home, which doesn’t speak well for her sense of responsibility. Panahi presents that as is without judgment, letting the situation speak for itself. I wonder how Iranians see that.

Tehran’s traffic is not for the faint-hearted, at least in 1997. I kept worrying about the girl as she dodged the oncoming cars when crossing streets. The town seems safe enough in terms of crime, and it’s impressive how aggressive the girl is in seeking help to return home without knowing exactly where home is.

Do second-graders really have to wear hijabs and ride in the back of the bus? Kids, as in Kiarostami’s Koker trilogy, are definitely to be seen and not heard. The glimpse of Iranian society at that time was fascinating. The dialogue feels real, especially among the women on the bus – one older lady complains that her children have abandoned her, a fortune teller informs another rider that the latter’s husband is cheating on her – while men are mainly interested in the soccer game against South Korea. There is some amusing dialogue heard from a taxi as an unseen man and woman exchange heated views on the female’s role in the household (which the woman calls “slavery”). When the girl runs into the old woman on a bench after the filming, she is surprised when the latter tells her that her dialogue on the bus was real rather than scripted.

The film could be trimmed after the girl quits the film, as there is little consequential at that point once we’ve got the idea. But it does feel organic rather than edited, which is refreshing.

The main girl, Mina Mohammad Khani, is apparently the little sister of the actress in The White Balloon; the latter, Aida Mohammad Khani, is actually listed in some sources as a performer in this film as well, perhaps doubling at some point (the girls look very similar). Mina has a screechy fingernails-on-blackboard voice and is not overly sympathetic as a character despite her situation. Still, she did come off as a normal child, as with her complaints upon quitting that other kids will see her as whiny and weak (her character’s arm was in a cast). Other performers were quite natural, especially the old woman on the bus and bench. The actors were clearly hired for their looks rather than their talent, which was quite right for this kind of film.

While the film seemed a variation on Kiarostami rather than something in its own right, it has its pleasures. The unexpected turnaround midway was well done, and while I wish the film were cut a bit, it’s worth a watch.